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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221616">Doubts, a dinner date and an unexpected ambush</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut'>ChocoNut</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wooing his wench [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverges in 4x1, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, season 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:54:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While the date goes fairly well, Brienne is attacked by, well, something unexpected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wooing his wench [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Doubts, a dinner date and an unexpected ambush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Might I ask what bothers you, Lady Brienne?”</p><p>The soft concern in the voice brought Brienne back to her companion. “Nothing serious, my lady.”</p><p>Margaery’s smile told her she was not going to let it go. “Is it about what happened at the meet?”</p><p>“Yes-- I mean, no--”</p><p>“It’s Ser Jaime, isn’t it?” They stopped walking. “I heard he has asked you to be his wife.”</p><p>Brienne sighed. “But I have not told him one way or the other, yet.”</p><p>The younger woman searched her eyes. “I don’t see an aversion for him. He considers you to be a suitable match, and but for his Kingslayer--”</p><p>“He’s not the Kingslayer,” Brienne snapped back, “not to me--” </p><p>“Such indignation at the mere mention of the word,” Margaery called her out, smiling. “You two are perfect for each other.”</p><p>“I don’t think he can ever accept me or any other woman with all his heart.” The niggling worry had been lurking in her mind since last evening. “He chooses to wed me not because he loves or wants me, but to satisfy his father, to fulfil what he was born for.”</p><p>Was that not what he had told her yesterday?</p><p>Margaery touched her arm. “Give him time. I’m certain it will blossom into more. Just drift along with the wind, Lady Brienne, and allow <em> this </em> to grow into something beautiful and everlasting.”</p><p>+++++</p><p>“Oh, move aside,” she cried, pushing his struggling hand away and dragging the plate towards herself after a painful few minutes of his futile effort.</p><p>Jaime watched while she began cutting his meat into pieces he could easily manage. “First Harrenhal, and now tonight,” he observed with a smile. “I could get used to this, you know.”</p><p>Not dwelling too much on the compliment, she went about her task. “You don’t need me for this. I’m sure you have men helping you with everything.”</p><p>“Yes, but it’s not the same, wench.” He leaned, and she could feel him exhale on her forehead. “A wife would do it far more lovingly just the way you are--”</p><p>“Done.” She thrust the plate under his nose and hurriedly went back to her meal. </p><p>Her face on fire, she ate quietly, not wanting to show him how profoundly his words affected her. She went back to her tea-time chat with Margaery. Time, she could give him, but would it change the way he felt for his sister? Would she have to resign to a life of sharing his heart with Cersei? He liked her and respected her, but would he ever--</p><p>“You’re free to talk, Brienne.” She looked up from her plate to find him regarding her intently. “I’ve ensured the inn’s at our disposal for the rest of this evening. There’s no one listening, no one to disturb--”</p><p>“Why me, Ser Jaime?” she asked, the other thorn in her mind tumbling out before she could hold it. “There were plenty of beautiful women there yesterday, some of them to match your name and charm--”</p><p>“You find me charming, Brienne?”</p><p>“That wasn’t my point,” she scolded, but his eyes were twinkling, and before he could come up with another cheeky quip, she pushed herself to go on, to keep the conversation from straying away from the matter. “Why didn’t you choose one of them and make life easier for yourself? I’m sure they’d have gladly consented--”</p><p>“Which other woman would lovingly cut up my dinner for me, wench?”</p><p>She felt a tingle in her toes at the way he said <em> lovingly. </em>“Any of them would.”</p><p>He put down his knife and rested his elbows on the table. “Which other woman would tend to me night and day, clean up my shit and piss and vomit, dress my wounds and stay by my bedside until I’m well again?”</p><p>The green eyes carried an earnest gratitude, the far-from-pleasant memories stirring something within her. “Anyone who calls herself your wife would.”</p><p>“Which other woman would dare call me Kingslayer to my face--” he paused “--apart from Catelyn Stark--”</p><p>“You’re not the Kingslayer--”</p><p>“And which other woman would defend me like this?” His lips met in a gentle smile. “Which other woman would point out without hesitation when I err and have no qualms about knocking men like me into the dust--”</p><p>“Believe me, I don’t wish to do that anymore,” she confessed, returning his smile.</p><p>“But you would, if I act like an asshole again.” His hand crept across to touch hers. “I need a wife who is my equal in all respects. Not just a pretty body to warm mine and a womb to bear my heirs.”</p><p>To that, she could find no counter-retort.</p><p>“An easy life is not what I crave, Brienne,” he said, rubbing her knuckles. “So you might as well stop suggesting alternative brides.”</p><p>+++++</p><p>“Good night, Ser Jaime, and thank you for the lovely evening.”</p><p>Shutting the door, Brienne stood there for long, thinking, wondering… </p><p>
  <em> Give it time… let it bloom and flower. </em>
</p><p>Her head full of her handsome suitor and the events of the past two days, she absently began to undress to get into her night clothes. Was Margaery right? Could she really have all this like other woman - a handsome husband, a couple of adorable children, a life--</p><p>Or would she be reduced to another puppet in Tywin Lannister’s ambitious game? Like Sansa, was she just another means for the Lannisters to spread their name far and wide--</p><p>A soft knock saved her from sinking completely into the unpleasant side of this.</p><p>“Ser Jaime?”</p><p>Only now did she realize with a start that while she was fully clothed, she had forgotten to lace her nightshirt. Before his eyes could wander to the undesired, she clutched the garment tightly over her breasts.</p><p>“I--” he was panting as if he’d run a good distance “--can I come in, wench?”</p><p>She let him.</p><p>“I came here to--” his eyes took a trip around the room before coming to rest on hers “--I had forgotten to ask you if I can see you again tomorrow, my lady.”</p><p>Before she could answer, she felt a horrible creeping sensation down her back. “Oww,” she yelped with a jump, letting go of the shirt bunched up in her fists to get to her back. “There’s something on my back--” panic-struck, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt whilst trying to reach the problem with her other hand.</p><p>“Brienne, let me--”</p><p>“--it stung me badly and it’s still around, crawling--” she squirmed and wriggled, hoping that would get rid of it but “--it’s not going, it’s--”</p><p>He held her in place with a firm grip on her arm. “Calm down, Brienne.” </p><p>Embarrassed, she let go of his shirt, and he spun her around to check her back. “Now hold still while I--”</p><p>“It’s going in deeper--”</p><p>“Stop moving.” Sliding the shirt down to her elbows, he traced his hand down to the centre of her back where she could feel the disgusting movement. “It’s just a small insect. There, now, it’s gone.”</p><p>Brienne allowed herself to breathe normally.</p><p>Not for long, though, for his fingers were on the affected area, circling it gently, every press of a fingertip a little arrow stabbing deep into her, sending waves of unforeseen sensations shooting straight down to the tail of her spine. “It’s red, but not that bad,” he reported, his unsteady breathing down her skin burning her more than the insect-bite. “It’ll disappear in a day or two. If it doesn’t, you can get Qyburn to have a look.”</p><p>She expected him to leave it at that, but instead of withdrawing, he lingered on, holding her, his good hand flooding down a rush of heat to her groin and awakening parts of her that had lain dormant for ages, whilst his golden digits sparked an icy shiver through her spine. “I never imagined the mighty Brienne of Tarth, the swordswoman with the downfall of many a formidable foe to her credit, would fear a tiny insect,” he teased, his fingers criss-crossing along the width of her back.</p><p>“I don’t fear it,” she squeaked, still slightly shivering, from the shock of the six-legged ambush or because of his hand on her skin, she wasn’t sure. “This one just happened to bother me a lot. I could’ve gotten rid of it myself--”</p><p>“But you didn’t.” She could feel him inch closer. “Glad to have been of help, my lady,” he purred in her ear, his fingertips squeezing her bare arm, the lace on his tunic tickling her back. “<em>Always </em> at your assistance.”</p><p>All that remained between them after that, was the sound of their breathing, his touch, frustrating her in ways that made her crave for more of it. </p><p>She wanted to push him away and shut herself to safety, but also wanted him to stay the night and undress her, to lay her gently on the bed and whisper sweet words of love in her ears. She wanted to never see him again, yet, yearned for him to make love to her, to make her gasp and cry out his name. She wished for freedom to flee the capital at dawn, to never set foot on this side of the country again, never to see him again, but the other half of her wanted to never let him out of her sight, to keep him wrapped around her, his protective arms holding her until she fell asleep--</p><p>A light breeze swept through the window to caress her breasts, and suddenly aware of her nakedness, Brienne tugged her shirt over her chest. “It’s--it’s quite late--”</p><p>“Right.” Taking his hands off her, he stepped away. “I must leave now.”</p><p>Once safely laced up and covered, she turned to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>“Right,” he absentmindedly acknowledged in an oddly hoarse voice, not meeting her eyes for some reason.</p><p>“Good night,” she called out, when he was at the door.</p><p>“Good night, Brienne.” To her relief, Jaime smiled his usual smile, this return of normalcy between them cutting away the awkward tension of the last few minutes. “And do keep a watch on your little adversary,” he warned with a playful gleam in his eyes, “because, should it decide to turn up in your bed, I’m not going to be around to protect you.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No, the maid of Tarth isn't too worried about creepy crawlees... Not until they decide to wander into her shirt...</p><p>Thank you for reading :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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